This is War (Revamped)
by EllieMayy
Summary: A story I posted about two years ago I'm redoing and reposting. Please check it out! Bill Gaurnere/OC Eugene Roe/OC
1. Chapter 1

"Drop it!" Eugene yelled, his usually soft voice reaching maximum volume. His frozen finger crept towards the awaiting trigger, "I said drop it!"

The boy's head swung from side to side, much like a toddler in blind defiance. The youth held on tighter to the gun, his hands white and shaking "Ich liebe Deutschland!"

"Don't be an idiot kid." Lieutenant Buck Compton growled, taking a step towards the crazed boy.

"Ich liebe Deutschland!" He yelled again, pistol pointed at the two approaching Americans

"Sure sure," Muttered Compton, dropping his gun into the snow, and holding his large hands up in an example of appeasement. "We believe you. Now lower your damn weapon."

The boy did not listen to Compton's orders. Either he didn't understand English, or he was simply intent on killing the two men encroaching on the post he'd been charged with defending. With hands that were as unsure of the gun as they would have been a woman's hips, he took aim, and the air was filled with the sound of a single gunshot.

The bullet from the boy's luger whizzed past Medic Roe, somewhere a few feet above his head. The boy's jaw hung open, at the sight of the two men still standing. He hurried to cock the pistol again, but struggled with the mechanism. Compton, whose gun was cast into the snow as a gesture of appeasement, cast a glance over his shoulder at the medic that stood behind him. "Anytime now Eugene!"  
The boy fidgeted with the handgun once more, his thick gloves hindering his ability to reload the weapon.

"Is that an order sir?" Eugene asked, grimacing into the frigid headwind as he waited for an answer.

"Yep."

The boy took aim again, clumsy fingers feeling around for the trigger.

"Lord forgive me for I have sinned." Eugene breathed, as he flipped out his own pistol and shot the boy square in the head.

The teenager dropped to the cold cobblestone, as hot blood gushed from the gaping hole in his forehead. Compton said nothing, but retrieved his gun from the ground, and sidestepped the large puddle of blood that had poured out into the snow, staining it an all too familiar shade of red.

Eugene shook his head, and lifted the boy's limp body into his arms. He trudged through the knee deep snow and carried him over to a pre-assembled pile of corpses. He looked for a moment for the kindest place to set the boy, and finally decided to leave him on the right of an old man whose hair was greyer than ash.

"Eugene! Objective's up here. I found the rest of the company!" He heard Compton call. "Let's get move on."

Eugene straightened the boys jacket, readjusted the collar, and placed his hands across his chest.

"O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life."

Eugene drug his gloved hand down over the boy's face, shutting his open eyes.

"Amen…"

x.x.x.x.x

Eugene shot up in bed, and wiped away the cold sweat that dripped off his forehead. He squinted desperately into the murky darkness of the army tent, trying not to see the boy's piercing blue eyes, that horrified expression the boy's face had contoured into as the bullet shattered his skull. Eugene tried to picture the image of the teenagers body where he had left it- beside the peaceful old man.

But only saw gaping blue eyes, and blonde hair stained with crimson streaks.

Eugene gripped his Red Cross armband, and felt tremendously guilty.

He had killed.

He had gone against his family creed.

He had induced death, the thing which he usually fought so hard to elude.

He had gone against every instinct in his entire body.

And yet, at the time, he had only felt instinct and nothing more.

x.x.x.x


	2. Chapter 2

The briefing for the 101st was all it was expected to be. Brief. Commander had told the troops that they would be evacuating a Dutch town, Dierst, before the Germans bombed it at 0100. All citizens that had not already evacuated voluntarily had to be evicted and transported to safety. Most of the men were excited, for once- easy company was getting an easy mission. Most people had already evacuated. At least, anyone sane had evacuated. All that was left to be done was throw the unwilling on a truck, cart them away, and then head back to HQ for a relaxing evening of beer and poker.

With glazed over eyes, Eugene stared up at the board where Captain Evan Hughes pointed to arrows and figures on the map.

Operation Market Garden was fast becoming a failure and everyone knew it.

The Germans weren't retreating, too many casualties had been suffered and little ground had been gained.

"Poker tonight?" Growled Bill Gaurnere, as he stuffed a cigarette deep into his mouth.

Eugene nodded as Captain Hughes continued to point around almost aimlessly at the chalkboard.

"Yeah. As soon as we get the crazies out. How much is in the pot for tonight?"

Bill took a hard drag on his cigarette, finally removing it from his mouth, grasping it between two calloused fingers.

"It's about 400 bucks now!" Bill rasped, as his dark eyes shifted to the side. "400 bucks that'll be in my pocket by midnight tonight."

Eugene settled further back into his chair, smirking.

"And 400 bucks you'll lose again before tomorrow night's game."

Bill gnawed on his cigarette, and said nothing but scoffed at Eugene, while the future plans for Operation Market Garden unfolded around them

x.x.x.x

When they arrived Dierst, Easy Company's first platoon jumped of the jeeps, and into the deserted streets.

Rumors were already circulating about the night's poker game, and the fact that Bill Gaurnere probably had some extra whisky hidden in his foot locker.

Eugene and five others headed to the southwestern part of town, where they would each search a building, under the cover of another's watchful eye.

"Doc, you take this building, and I'll take that one. It'll be quicker!" Private McAllister suggested, with a force that far exceeded his rank.

Eugene shrugged; he knew his comrades wanted to get back to camp and have an enjoyable evening of drinking and gambling. "Sure sure." He muttered, grabbing the Luger that hung in his belt, as he prepared to enter a bombed building. He kicked open the flimsy wooden door, and pointed the pistol in each direction before entering.

"Hello?" He called into the musty dimness of the unlit house.

"Bonjour, est quelqu'un ici?" He called again, his Cajun roots easily allowing him to slip into the French tongue.

Again, even in the different language, there was no reply.

He turned to leave, muttering to himself. The mission was ridiculous- he could have slept longer. Hours longer.

"C'est ridiculous." He cursed under his breath, as he took a step towards the door.

However he stopped short in his tracks when his ears picked up the sound of a faint roaring that seemed to echo through the cement walls of the house.

"Plumbing?" He wondered aloud, his brow furrowing. "Running water?"

Confused, he pressed his ear to the wall of the house, and listened intently, much as he would have done for a heartbeat. Sure enough, the distinct sound of creaking pipes and rushing water could be heard through the thick concrete slabs.

Eugene ascended the stairs carefully, his hand on his Luger. When he reached the top floor of the house, he could hear the familiar sound of a shower running. He shook his head in pitied annoyance. Cautiously he crept towards the room where the sound of running water was coming from. He could see the shower clearly, and the towel that was draped over the rack. The steam would have clogged up the bathroom air, but an open window let in the cold Dutch draft.

After a mental count to three, Eugene cocked his pistol, and threw back the shower curtain, yelling for the person inside to raise their arms.

Large blue eyes and wet blond hair met Eugene's unexpected gaze as he pulled away the curtain. The woman's skin was pale and smooth, and off of her forehead trickled tiny droplets of water. Her large breasts and shapely hips screamed "sex" to him, as he fought to tear his eyes away.

"Vous opposez-vous?" The woman shouted, stamping her foot against the shower tile. "Do you mind?"

Eugene couldn't believe what he was seeing. The naked woman in the shower made no attempt to cover herself, and likewise Eugene made no attempt to look away. He hadn't seen a naked woman in two years. Their eyes met again, and suddenly she flung the curtain closed in his face.

"Fräulein?" Eugene questioned, sighing as he leaned against the bathroom counter.

There was an annoyed snort. "Je ne suis pas Allemande. I'm not German."

He smiled; and a small whisper of a laugh escaped him.

"My apologies Mam. Je suis désolé. Are you Dutch?"

Another snort. "Am I speaking Dutch?"

"No mam."

"Want to try again? Eugene couldn't believe the conversation he was having with the woman. "Are you French?"

"Oui. I'm Alix. I'm French. And you? You must be something bizarre to speak awful, incorrect French like that…"

"I'm from Acadia. It's uh, Cajun French."

"Well that explains it. You are a halfbreed."

There was a silence, and all that continued was the sound of the water against the shower floor.

"Why would you think I am Dutch?" She asked, "All the Dutch left days ago when they heard of your bombing."

"No matter. You should have left with them. What are you doing here mademoiselle? Eugene asked. "We ordered evacuation two days ago…"

Her light voice penetrated through the hot air of the steamy bathroom, which was making Eugene sweat.

"I didn't get the message…"

He couldn't help but smile at her evasiveness. He took off his helmet and pushed damp strands of black hair out of his forehead.

Eugene could see her shadowy outline against the white shower curtain, and he tried not to watch as she arched her back to drag shampoo through the ends of long hair.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence again- he wondered if the woman had simply forgotten he was here. She didn't answer and he watched her throw head under the water and run her fingers down her back.

"We're evacuating. I'd appreciate if you'd please get dressed and come with me."

He heard her sigh. "I can't come with you."

Patronizingly, he chuckled attempting to laugh off her remark. "And why not?"

"I work here."

"So did everyone else."

"No, I mean I work here, and I live here in this building."

"What do you do?"

He saw her shift uncomfortably at the question, her dark outline turning away from the curtain. "I help run this bar. We're the only ones that sell true German ale. Been making quite a lot of money recently"

"Do you enjoy working here?"

"I have to make money."

"So you don't want to work here?" Eugene questioned, beginning to lead up to his proposal which would remove the woman from the old house.

"Non, I want to be back in my fields, in the garden, working at the store."

"You farm?"

"Oui, who doesn't?"

He laughed, "You have a point."

He saw her outline shrug.

"Mademoiselle." Eugene began. "You must come with me. Your German clientele are planning on bombing this town at 0100. I'm an American soldier from the 101st airborne, and I've come to evacuate all remaining citizens."

She shook opened the shower curtain and stared at him.

"I won't come with you. You Americans can take a town, but you can't keep it. You've been fighting over pointless crossroads, and gaining ground, only to lose it a week later." She shook her head again, a motion ridden with finality. "I'm not leaving. When the Germans re-occupy, the officers will be furious to know that the bar is closed." She then began to whisper, her soft voice almost drowned out by the rushing water from the showerhead. "I've nowhere else to go anyways."

"Don't you want to go back home to your town? You just said you missed the fields!" Eugene offered.

"I don't have a town or fields anymore! They were razed a long time ago."  
He hung his head slightly. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

"This is home now." She told him, an uneasy anger creeping into her voice. "Whether I like it or not. Besides, I've almost got the money to purchase a a ticket to America. If I leave, I won't have the chance to get collect the remainder of my salary." She eyed him once more. "I hope you can comprehend that if I ever wish to leave this place, staying is my only option."

"Mam, staying is not an option."

"And who says you get to decide that?" She shook her head, disgusted.

Eugene reached through the shower curtain, cut off the water, then grabbed a towel that had been lying on the counter.

He threw the towel around the stubborn woman, as she glared at him, her blue eyes frigidly cold. "Dry off, and come on."

"Arrêtez-vous hé!" She exclaimed angrily. "Stop!"

"Can't. Orders." With that Eugene wrapped her up in the towel and scooped her into his arms. She kicked and screamed, for him to stop, "Arrêtez-le!"

But he continued calmly down the stairs.

"Don't make this any harder than it is." He told her, as she fought against him.

It was then that things became exponentially harder.

The sound of a single gunshot filled the empty air, and Eugene was instantly reminded of the day before, when the blonde boy had fired his pistol. Eugene could only turn in surprise towards direction of the sound, instead of even thinking of diving to the ground. He'd secured this town days ago. There shouldn't have been a sniper for miles upon miles. And yet the woman Eugene carried was becoming limp, muscles relaxing and voice fading, as she was reduced to nothing more than a rag doll.

Eugene's eyes went wide as he glanced down to find that her cheeks, once flushed and heated with conflict, were now stony and pale. Staggering, he placed her in a corner, letting the convergence of the walls support her spine. He dove by her side, and placed his rough fingers under her jaw, praying for a heartbeat. Suddenly, as if it had just started, he felt it. He felt the pounding against his finger as blood rushed to and fro deep within her veins. His fingers felt life, and his mind felt hope.

He ripped off the towel, and glared at the gaping hole in her breast that gushed enough blood to preserve her modesty. Eugene reached for the clotting powder in his medical bag and threw it on the wound, before slapping a bandage over the torn flesh. The new dressing was already turning red, as Eugene used his teeth to tear the cap off a morphine shot, before jamming the needle deep into her shoulder.

He gathered her up, clutching her floppy arms and legs together, as he bounded down the set of unstable stairs. He burst through the door of the house to commotion in the street. His comrades were securing the adjacent house; a few officers were standing by the jeeps pointing at maps, other men were loading a small group of civilians into a transport truck. But as Eugene marched towards the assembly of army trucks, the officers looked up, the men across the street looked over, and the civilians paused to stare.

"I need a coat!" He yelled as Private McAllister ran over to him, immediately shedding his jacket. Eugene threw the woman's towel on the ground, and placed her atop it, wrapping the jacket around her exposed body. "What the hell happened?" McAllister breathed, looking at what he believed to be a corpse of a very attractive civilian casualty.

Eugene glared up at him, another syringe clasped between his teeth. "You tell me Alli. Thought ya'll secured this damn place."

Eugene pulled the girls right arm out from under McAllister's large Army coat. He took her hand, and spread her fingers apart, tapping various placed on her hand and forearm, hoping to see streaks of blue appear under her pale skin.

"Whatcha doing Doc?" McAllister asked, wringing his hands. Eugene removed the needle from his mouth, with two practiced fingers, much like he would a cigarette. "Finding a vein."

McAllister watched Eugene and attach the needle it to a small cord, and then hook the tube up to a bottle. "What should I be doing Doc?"

Eugene pushed the needle into the woman's forearm, and watched the plasma slowly drip from the bottle to the tube. "Praying."

He thrust the bottle plasma at McAllister, and fixed him with a steady stare. "Just hold it, don't squeeze it, and don't drop it." He commanded, hoisted the woman into his arms once more.

McAllister shook his head, eyes widening. "I don't-"

"Just for now, I need to get her in the back of the jeep." Eugene grunted, and lifted the woman over the tailgate of one of the Army jeeps. Once she was settled, he snatched the bag of plasma from McAllister. "Now drive." Eugene commanded, his eyes scanning the dropping level of the lifegiving fluid. "Drive real fast…"

McAllister bolted for the front of the jeep, and Eugene closed his eyes, and commenced praying.

"Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Hail Mary, full of grace…." Eugene glanced down at the young woman who was draped across his lap. He placed two attentive fingers under her chin, and felt her pulse which seemed faint. His fingers retreated, and he placed his entire palm on her forehead and prayed harder.


End file.
